Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) (9 page)

What use? He couldn’t even begin to answer that, so he swallowed the question. She was here now and only seven weeks pregnant. “What did the ultrasound show?” he asked. Good God, did she know the baby’s gender already?

“It showed that the pregnancy is not ectopic. I’m going back in two weeks.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I’m not asking for that,” she said quickly. “In fact, you don’t have to do anything at all. I can completely—”

“Beth, stop.” He scooted closer. “Not do anything? Who the hell do you think I am?”

“I know who you are, but do you fully understand who this child is?”

“Other than mine?” he demanded.

“This child is and will always be Ray Endicott’s grandchild.”

He stared at her, refusing to let that change anything. “And
my
child,” he said.

She exhaled and inched back. “Whatever you want is fine. You can have a role in this child’s life, of course. And you can give money if it makes you feel better, though I don’t need it. Or you can let me walk out of here and forget this ever happened, or you can sign some legal document—I don’t care.”

“But I do.” He finally ground the truth out. “I care like…like…” He shook his head, words eluding him. “Like nothing I’ve ever cared about in my whole life.”

“But this is—”

The screech of a callout alert blasted from the loudspeaker, making her gasp and jump.

“Station one-six, engine five-five, possible house fire—”

He didn’t even blink, vaulting up from his desk. “That’s me.”

“Ken.” She looked up, dismay on her face.

“We’re not done here.” He never even turned to look at her expression, hustling into the station, the callout still screaming instructions he had to process.

Not news about a baby.

Not the fact that his life just changed forever.

Not her list of possible options for how involved he could be in the life of his child.

Not anything but that dispatcher’s voice telling him what he needed to know to do his job. Possible house fire meant both the ladder and the pumper. Chief was gone by now, and the rescue crew would come along.

A BFD that had men and women propelled into the action of gearing up to do battle with a blaze…seconds after he was delivered a mind-blowing, life-changing, heart-wrecking sucker punch.

In the bay, he went through the motions of stepping into his bunker pants and boots and moving more from muscle memory than any real thought. In less than ten seconds, he was dressed and hoisted himself into the rig where his bunker coat, helmet, and SCBA gear waited.

Behind him, the crew slid into place, with Hanrahan at the wheel. Ken reached for the radio mic to report their movement. For a second, nothing came out of his mouth. Nothing registered except the impossible reality of…

A
baby
. His baby. His and Beth’s.

“Captain, why are you smiling?”

“Love this job, Irish,” he said, right before he pressed the talk button. “I freaking love this job.”

Chapter Six

Beth’s ears were still ringing long after the deafening loudspeaker went quiet and the two engines screamed out of the garage. Now there was only silence.

Even Sally had followed her master out, leaving Beth alone.

The low-grade hum of life was suddenly gone, with only the aroma of something Italian in the air. She sat stone still, staring at the empty chair where, less than two minutes ago, she’d delivered life-altering news to a man who…

I care like nothing I’ve ever cared about in my whole life.

She dropped back, letting that reaction sink in. Well, what had she expected? A man who’d say,
Not my problem, babe
? Of course not.

Even though she’d spent only one short night with him and six months over two dozen years ago, she knew that honor and integrity ran through every vein in Ken Cavanaugh’s body.

Those qualities were sure on display here. She closed her eyes and conjured up the man who’d stolen her breath when he’d come around the corner and walked toward her like he wanted to claim her.

His uniform was so…oh hell. Call it a cliché because it was, but that uniform was hot. Who knew a blue shirt could look so good with that salt-and-pepper hair and suntanned skin? And all those bars and insignias on his collar and muscles in his shoulders could make her as dizzy as the day she’d nearly keeled over in the Super Min.

When that alarm rang, he shot up like a soldier, marched off to his war, didn’t even hesitate to go running into a burning house or face down whatever life-threatening crisis that box was screaming about.

A possible house fire.
The announcement blaring through the loudspeakers still reverberated through Beth’s bones.

Ken hadn’t even flinched.

She closed her eyes as the ringing stopped in her ears and she could think again. She’d done so well compartmentalizing Ken after she’d last seen him. Except for a few long and achy nights when she gave in and remembered every sizzling detail of making love to him, she’d succeeded in not falling into the hole of longing.

And then, two weeks ago, when her life tilted sideways and she found out she was pregnant, her thoughts about Ken changed completely. All that mattered was her baby…and the fact that it was his baby, too. She’d known how he’d react: possessive, happy, maybe a little proud. And of course he’d want—

“Hello?”

Beth whipped around as an older woman in a stiff blue shirt not unlike the one Ken wore stepped into the doorway of the office.

“Oh, sorry,” Beth said, pushing up. “I guess I should leave.” Or should she? Did Ken’s warning of
we’re not done here
mean the conversation would continue between fire calls? She had no idea. “I was talking to—”

“Captain Cav, I know. Every person in the station knows.” The woman added an easy smile that crinkled a soft sixtysomething face. “Now you can tell me everything so when they get back, I can curry favors for a week by doling out the truth, or what I want them to think is the truth.” She came into the office, extending her hand. “I’m Pookie McPherson, assistant to the chief.”

Beth shook her hand. “Pookie?”

“Don’t be fooled by the cute name or my thinning hair. I’m tougher than all of these studs put together, and they know it or they wouldn’t cry on my ample bosom regularly.” She patted that bosom, her hand landing over the fire station insignia sewn into a blue chambray shirt. “So, who are you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Telling a man he was about to be a father had thrown basic manners out the window. “Bethany Endicott.”

“Oh, I know that. I mean who are you as it relates to Captain Cavanaugh?”

She let out a soft laugh at this new level of bluntness. “I’m an…acquaintance.”

“Ahh.” She nodded and reached into the pocket of her khaki pants, pulling out a folded piece of paper and flipping it open. “How long have you been seeing him?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m not…” Good God. “No. We knew each other in high school. What is that?” Beth asked, gesturing to the paper.

“A betting pool. High school, huh? So you hooked up with him at that reunion he was at a few weeks ago?”

Forget blunt. This was an interrogation. “We reacquainted ourselves there, if you must know.”

“Oh, I must.” She snapped the paper open and did another once-over. “He’s my favorite, that’s why.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I love them all, even some of the rookies who have the common sense of a doughnut. But Captain Cav? He’s…special.” There was a subtle warning in her voice, as if Beth didn’t know that.

But she unequivocally did. “He is.”

“I don’t just mean TD and H, which is kind of the norm for the men around here.”

TD and…? Oh. Tall, dark, and handsome.

“They all look damn good without their shirts on,” Pookie continued. “Don’t think because I don’t have a single drop of estrogen left in me that I don’t look, ’cause, honey, I do. Captain Cav’s particularly nice shirtless. Even better than some of the young ones, you know?”

“I know.”

She inched closer. “You do, do you?” Pookie gave a little smirk of victory and fluttered the paper. “So his dry spell is over? Can I put good money on it and win?”

Beth laughed again, more from disbelief than anything. “Is the Spanish Inquisition also the norm around here?”

“When one of my boys is involved, yes.”

“Ken is hardly a boy.”

“As you apparently well know.” She waved a hand, as if pushing away whatever Beth would come back with, not that there was anything.

Beth glanced at her handbag, longing for escape, but Ken’s parting shot still echoed in her head.

“How long do you think he’ll be?” she asked.

“Could be a while at this one.”

“Is it really a house fire?”

Pookie shrugged. “Caller smelled smoke but didn’t see flames. Could be a fire, could be a faulty wire in the AC unit, could be a false alarm, could be a raging inferno and somebody doesn’t come back.”

Beth gasped. “Really?”

The other woman fired a
get real
look at her, then narrowed her gray eyes. “Firefighting is dangerous. Are you aware of that? Do you want to be involved with someone who risks his or her life to save others? Because being a firefighter’s spouse is no easy job.”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m not going to marry him.”

“Really?” She seemed unfazed. “Because after one look at you, I not only put twenty bucks on the end of the dry spell, I also started a new pool. My money is on the ‘serious relationship with possible name change involved’ block.”

Beth blinked at her. “Name change?”

“Oh, you’re one of those who has to keep her name, huh? Fine. But the square still works. There are four to bet on.” She held up her fingers and started counting. “One-night stand, short-term fling, casual dating that ends in six months, and serious-slash-possible wife.” She looked Beth up and down two times quickly. “You’re nobody’s one-night stand.”

Beth lifted a brow. “You might have bet wrong on that, Pookie.” Turning, she lifted her bag from the chair and slipped it on her shoulder. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She smiled and stepped to the side. “I didn’t mean to scare you off, Miss Endicott.”

“I’m not scared.” She gave the woman a smile. “But I hope you didn’t put a lot of money on your bet.”

“Ten bucks. Always ten. And I never lose the relationship pools. Never.” She leaned a little closer. “Of course, don’t ask me about the Super Bowl. I get annihilated every year. Now, Moonshine, he put twenty bucks on short-term fling.”

“Moonshine?”

“Dalton Conway. He’s from Kentucky. Good firefighter but not a great judge of character. Because Captain Cav wouldn’t have brought a fling into his office. Not when Sally’s here. That Cara or Carrie creature who kept hunting him down? Would not let her near Sally. That’s how I knew about you.”

He
had
made a big deal out of her meeting his dog. “No offense, Pookie, but you really don’t know…about me.”
Like the fact that I’m carrying Captain Cav’s baby.
Wonder if anyone had bet on that. Talk about a long shot on the odds.

“If you say so. But I will.” Pookie put a friendly arm on Beth’s back and led her out. “That’s kind of what I do.”

As they turned the corner into the now empty garage, Sally lumbered over to Beth, nuzzling her leg.

“Told ya,” Pookie said.

“Would you let Captain Cavanaugh know that he can call me? Here’s my card.”

Pookie took the card and examined it carefully, no doubt off to run a Google search. “I will. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon. Bye!” Pookie pivoted and went back into the station, leaving Beth to look down to meet big brown affectionate eyes in a cute face with a barrel of a belly.

“Lay down, Sally.” She reached down and rubbed the dog’s head and started walking away, but Sally stayed right next to her until the edge of the firehouse property. Then she lowered her girth to the ground and watched Beth leave.

* * *

The shift was freaking interminable, with two more callouts, that training session he hadn’t been fully prepared to teach, and constant interruptions that made Ken want to punch someone. He needed time to think, and got very little of it, clocking out at seven the next morning, desperate to see Beth. He’d showered and changed at the station, handed Sally off to the next crew, and didn’t even bother going home.

He’d used the only free time he had to call in a favor to a friend in dispatch down in Collier County. His buddy had access to every record in the county, including the addresses that had recently closed and changed ownership.

It hadn’t been difficult to find her address. Sure, he had a cell phone number on a business card, but he’d rather show up and talk in person. A few weeks ago, he’d have considered that stalking and killed the idea before it fully formed. But the baby changed the game, and he wasn’t going to quietly step away or give her money or sign some stupid document. This was his
kid
, damn it.